Roam When You Shouldn't
by One-Eternity-Drive
Summary: Sometimes people get lost- it's just a matter of finding their way back. There's more behind those curious glances that almost go unnoticed.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**: This chapter serves as a quasi-prologue for this story; a beginning to the friendship between Rachel & Santana. The rest of the story, however, will follow the show's plot-line. Up until the end, that is.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_, or anything else I may mention throughout this story.

VI

"What are you doing?"

Santana was in the middle of patting down her sandcastle when she hears an unfamiliar voice above her. Through squinted eyes, she looks up to see the outline of a little girl with long pigtails staring down at her. A halo of light formed around the girls head, making it difficult for Santana to get a clear look at her face, so she focuses her eyes back down to her sandcastle. Any other time, Santana would have told her to get lost -especially on the rare days when the sandbox is out- but since it was getting hot and the girls head was blocking the sun, she held back. Instead she replies, "What does it look like I'm doing? Making a sandcastle, duh."

The girl points a short finger at the lackluster wall. "It doesn't look like a very good sandcastle."

Santana sucks her teeth. "What do you know about sandcastles anyway? Nobody asked you." She turns around, away from the girl, and continues working on her wall. The sand wasn't sticking together as it should, so she patted the sand further down into the bucket with her plastic shovel. If she was just able to get the—

"Actually, I know quite a lot about sandcastles. I make them all the time. I'm Rachel Berry by the way." Rachel moves around to Santana's line of view, and sits down on the opposite side of her. She holds her hand out for Santana to take, but when Santana ignores her to finish working on her castle, she prods, "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

"Ugh, Santana. My name is Santana." She rolls her eyes dramatically, a habit she picked up from her older sister, and doesn't look up.

"Santana…" She trails off, waiting for Santana to finish her sentence.

"Lopez. Lo-pez," she huffs out. She holds the bucket up to her face, blocking Rachel from her view. From behind the bucket, she states, "There are plenty of other kids here, ya know."

"I don't really have any friends." Rachel nervously looks around at the other children in the school yard, who were running around in the afternoon sun. She recognizes a boy on the monkey bars, shouting orders down to another boy with thick, round glasses. "Well, I know that boy over there, but we don't talk. He's in my Hebrew School." Santana ignores her and remains fixed on building her sandcastle. She has no clue what a Hebrew School is anyway. Rachel diverts her attention back to Santana and asks, "Where did you learn to make sandcastles Santana?"

"From my friend Aphasia. She doesn't go to this school though," she answers carelessly.

"I learned how to make sandcastles by watching other kids make them. And I know how to make a really good one. If you build a moat around the castle, it provides support for the main building. After that, you can put—"

"You know, you talk a lot for someone with no friends." Once again, Santana shifts her body away from Rachel's. This girl with no friends just yammered on; plus, she hadn't quite grown into her large teeth and she constantly spat in Santana's face.

Rachel's face drops and almost inaudibly, she lets out, "I'm sorry. My daddies warned me about speaking too much in front of new people. I'll leave you now."

She gets up slowly, looking around for a teacher to talk to (at least they were supposed to be nice to her) but was stopped when a small hand grabs hers and pulls her back into the sandbox. A small "oomph" escapes her when she hits the ground, but Santana ignores her. "Wait, '_daddies'_?", she asks. "As in, 'not a mommy and a daddy', but _two_ daddies?" Rachel's mouth twitches and her eyes grow slightly wet, but she nods. "You can do that?" Again, Rachel nodded.

"Woah," Santana lets the bucket she was holding fall and she stares straight past Rachel's head with wide eyes.

"I know that my family might not be like yours, but a family is a family." Her words come out rushed and she's pretty sure that Santana didn't even hear her through her mumbling. She may be young, but already she knows that her family is different from everyone else's. At least, that's the only reason she can think of when other parents stare at her and her father's in the street. Rachel stands up again, brushing sand off her tweed dress—

"That is _so_ cool." Rachel stops and turns to look down at Santana, who's staring up at her with a broad smile. The first Santana had throughout their entire conversation.

Rachel's mouth hangs open, and all she can muster up is, "W-what?"

Santana stands eye to eye with Rachel, accidentally kicking over her attempted sandcastle in the process. "Yeah. It's cool that you have two dads. I mean, it kinda sucks if you don't have a mommy, but I love my daddy. It would be so _cool_ to have _two_ of them."

In a moment, Santana is swallowed up by bushy, dark brown hair and Rachel's arms cling around her neck. They're hugging, well, _Rachel's_ hugging, and Santana swear's that she can feel's Rachel's heart beating through her chest. Awkwardly, Santana reaches around and gives Rachel a few pats on her back. When she finally does pull away, Santana can see wispy tears clinging to her eyelashes.

"Uhm, you okay?"

The girl smiles and wipes away a few of her tears with the back of her hand. "Yes. I'm fine Santana." She gives Santana the toothiest grin she's ever seen.

Santana's eyes fall to the pit they're in, the remains of her forgotten sandcastle around her Chuck Taylor's and Rachel's Mary Janes. Biting her lip, she looks up and asks, "Wanna help me make a new one?"

Rachel nods and tugs on Santana's hand, pulling them down to the pit. "Here' I'll start with the North Wall over here and you can make the fort over—"

Before she can finish her orders, Santana places her hand over the girl's mouth. "Listen Rachel, if we're gonna do this, were gonna do it as a team, okay?" She hands Rachel a bucket and she grabs the other one from behind her. "How about we both make the North Wall." More of a question than a statement, she removes her hands from Rachel's mouth and holds up a small, plastic shovel.

Rachel gingerly takes the shovel from Santana and nods. "Good," Santana says.

They spend the rest of recess knee-deep in sand, building a sandcastle together.

X

"Rachel, do you ever shut up? We've been here for like, 10 minutes and I'm getting a headache." Santana slams her head back onto the bulletin board behind her, bringing a finger to her temple to run circles over it. She and Rachel had been waiting to be seen outside the Principals Office— well, _she_ was waiting to be seen. Rachel was just waiting with her. She and Puckerman (who stopped going by "Noah" once he saw _James Bond_) got into a fight. Again.

It was the sixth time this month and their teacher, Mr. Tennenbaum -or _Mr. Tits_ as Santana liked to call him when he wasn't around- had finally had enough when he sent them to the Principals office.

"Well I am sorry if my words are offending you Santana, but I am a little more than nervous." Rachel's hands begin to play with the ends of her pleated skirt. "It's the first time I've ever been sent to the principal's office."

Santana groans out, "Are you forgetting that _I _was the one sent to the Principals office? You just tagged along." She tilts her head to the side to glance at Rachel, who had slumped her shoulders at Santana's statement. "Hey," she reaches out and places on of her hands on top of Rachel's. "Thanks, ya know. For staying with me." She offers Rachel a genuine smile. One that is returned.

"Well, thank _you_ Santana, for sticking up for me from Noah. Well, _Puckerman_." Her eyes fall to the linoleum tiles on the floor. "He's still 'Noah' in Hebrew School. I guess I have a hard time separating the two."

Santana squeezes her hand a little. "No problem Rach. If anyone is going to throw cereal at your head, it's gonna be me."

"Comforting." Santana's laugh elicits a giggle from Rachel. After the laughter dies down, Rachel removes her hand from underneath Santana's to run her fingers along her cheek where a dark purple bruise is forming. Santana winces from the pain and pushes Rachel's hands away. "You should put some ice on that before it swells even further. That's what my dad's do for me whenever I get hurt."

Santana opens her mouth to call Rachel "Captain Obvious", but the words never leave her lips. Behind Rachel's head, someone was approaching.

"Is this seat taken?" Startled, Rachel turns to look at the blond girl that seemed to appear of nowhere. She stands there smiling hesitantly, eying the empty seat. Rachel takes the initiate.

"Why not at all! Hi, my name is Rachel Berry—" she stands abruptly, offering her hand to the blond and is startled by the fact that she is nearly a head taller then her. "Goodness, you're tall." The blonds smile falters. "How rude of me. Sorry." She reaches her hand out and shakes the other girls' vehemently.

"This is Santana Lopez." Rachel turns to Santana, who's sitting there with her hand covering her bruised cheek. With her other hand, Santana gives a small wave and mumbles incomprehensibly to herself. "Anyway, sit down…I'm sorry, but what is your name?"

"Brittany," She replies as she takes a seat on the bench next to Rachel. "Brittany S. Pierce. But I'm not the Pop Star. Although I can dance just as good as her. Maybe better in a few years."

Santana and Rachel exchange a small glance before turning back to the blond. "Right..." Rachel leaves off.

"Why are you covering your face?" Brittany leans forward enough to get a look at Santana, who still has her hand covering her cheek.

She clears her throat before answering, "I, uh, I got into a fight." Santana looks at Brittany briefly before finding the floor suddenly more interesting.

"Why?"

"Some kid was throwing Cheerios at Rachel's head," Santana tilts her head towards Rachel who had suddenly also found the floor more interesting. "So I punched him." She shrugs her shoulders as if it meant nothing. "Plus, I hate Cheerios. If he was going to throw cereal at someone's head, it could have at least been a good tasting cereal."

Rachel chuckles at Santana's comment, and looks over at Brittany. She had a look of, well confusion. Judging by the glazed over look on her face, Rachel had wondered if the girl had even understood a word that Santana had said.

"Do you like Froot Loops, Santana?" Brittany questions.

For the second time, Santana and Rachel exchange glances. It was their turn to have looks of confusion on their faces. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Well, Froot Loops are just gay Cheerios. They're the same thing on the inside. If you like one, you're bound to like the other." The blond reaches into her book bag and pulls out a vintage _Darkwing Duck_ lunchbox. Without hesitation, she opens it and digs her hand inside. After a few seconds of rummaging, she pulls her hand out and the two girls realize that it is filled with…Cheerios. Smiling, she pops a few into her mouth. She then adds, simply, "I love Cheerios. They're great." She smiles to herself before turning back to Santana. "But, that was nice of you sticking up for your friend like that."

Rachel and Santana stare at Brittany for minutes, or even possibly years, both, with their mouths agape and raised eyebrows. Absentmindedly, Brittany continues to chew on her cereal.

The door to the office flies open and the Principal steps out with an intimidating glare. "Miss. Lopez, you have a- Miss. Berry, what are _you_ doing here?" Once his gaze falls on Rachel, his expression changes and he throws a hand to his cheek, rubbing it slowly.

Rachel stands with her hands on her hips in front of Santana, "Principal Briggs, I am here because I am a witness to the incident between Santana and No-Puckerman. I was in the classroom at the time of the fight and can provide accurate—"

Principals Briggs waves his hands in the air dramatically, as if her were wiping away Rachel's comment. "Miss. Berry, I do not want to hear it. Return to your classroom immediately." He looks beyond Rachel and spots Brittany, quietly eating her cereal. "New Student?" She nods enthusiastically. "Okay, I'll be with you in a minute. Miss. Lopez- Stay," Santana crosses her arms over her shoulders and once again bangs her head on the board behind her. "Miss. Berry- Class. Now."

As the door slams behind Principal Briggs, Rachel jumps a little. She shuffles her feet before turning and muttering, "Sorry Santana."

Santana uncrosses her arms and sighs a little. "It's okay Rach. I'll be fine." Her eyes glance over at Brittany for a quick second. "I'll see you after school, okay."

Rachel smiles slightly and nods. "See you later, Santana." She turns to look at Brittany who's still chewing on her cereal. "It was nice meeting you Brittany."

Brittany smiles, Cheerios stuck in between her teeth, a gives Rachel a wave. "See you later, Rachel."

When Rachel is halfway down the hallway, she looks behind her at the two girls. Faintly, she hears Brittany's voice.

"Want some Cheerios? You might like them more than you thought." Santana doesn't reply, but she does grab a handful from Brittany's lunchbox. Rachel chews on her lip for a moment, but turns back around wand walks with intent. She is _definitely_ going to give Noah Puckerman a piece of her mind when she gets back to class.

IIX

"Aside from helping Brittany with her tumbling all summer, I also had to convince her that Artie was not a robot. She _still_ doesn't believe me." Santana and Rachel were sprawled out on Rachel's bed, flipping through magazines and occasionally tossing jelly beans at each other. Santana's Cheering Camp had ended the day before, giving them one last week together before the start of school. "I'm telling you Rachel, Cheerleading Camp is nothing like what they show on TV. It's all blood, sweat, tears and girls with low self-esteem." She flips a page and adds, "The only good thing was that I got to watch the sunrise every morning without the smog of Lima to clutter it up."

Rachel was on her back, staring up at the gold stars that line her ceiling. Curiously, she asks, "You told me you didn't like Cheerleading. Why ask your parents to send you to Cheerleading Camp?" She turns her head towards Santana who's sitting at the head of the bed.

She flicks her eyes across the page before mumbling, "Because Brittany wanted me to go with her."

Rachel replies with an, "Aah." Santana hits her lightly on the head before reopening it and continuing on with her article. Rachel's laugh cut into her concentration.

"Whatever Rachel. I bet your Singing Camp was much more fun than Cheerleading. Plus, I haven't even told you the worst of it," Rachel sits up, facing Santana on the bed, and folds her legs. "Remember that blond chick that moved a few streets down from you?" Rachel nods. "She was there too. She's all 'buddy-buddy' with Britt. Turns out her name is Quinn. Quinn Fabray. Puh, more like Quinn Fa-_bitch_."

"Santana!" Rachel lightly slaps Santana on her shoulder. "No swearing in my house! My fathers are home!"

"Sorry. Anyway," she rushes out, "point is, I can't stand the girl. I only hope she doesn't try to permanently be friends with us."

Rachel shrugs before lying back down on the bed. "I don't know. I think she's pretty. Really pretty actually."

"God Rach, you can't be serious? She looks like someone created her in a lab or something. No natural beauty at all. I bet she isn't even a natural blond- and don't let me get started on that nose. It looks totally _fake_." Santana's eyes never lift up from her magazine, so she doesn't notice when Rachel subconsciously raises a hand to her face at the mention of the word 'nose'. "Please Rachel, you're so much prettier than Quinn."

Rachel blinks a few times, to make sure that she actually heard what she thought she did. She sits up slowly, staring at Santana with an expression that is a mixture of intensity and gratitude. "What did you just say?"

Santana peers over the top of her magazine and is slightly startled by Rachel's expression. "Uhh, that you're much prettier than Quinn." Rachel looks as if she's on the verge of tears and Santana's seen that expression before. She places her magazine down and sighs. "Yeah Rach, you're pretty. Look, I know that you're sensitive about your nose and shi- _stuff_, but it's cool, okay. That natural beauty thing I was talking about- you totally have it. Your nose is awesome and it looks real. Okay."

Santana isn't even entirely sure that Rachel heard her at all by the way she just seems to be staring _through_ the girl. Her thoughts are squashed however, when all she can see is a mane of brown hair and all she can feel are small arms encircling her. She smiles, and reaches her arms around Rachel, affectionately patting her on the back.

"You're such a girl." Her words are muffled in Rachel's hair.

"Whatever Brittany." Rachel teases out. Santana pulls back, holding Rachel at arm's length.

"Oh no you did not—" Before she can even get out a good comeback, she Rachel is out of her arms and down the stairs. Santana spends the rest of the afternoon chasing Rachel around the Berry's backyard.

IIIX

"Good afternoon Mr. Lopez, may I see Santana please." Rachel flashes a smile at Santana's father.

"Hi Rachel. She's upstairs with Brittany." Mr. Lopez waves her in and goes back into the den, positioning himself between a sofa and the newspaper.

She never usually comes to Santana's house without announcing herself, but her nerves had gotten to her. Tomorrow was the first day of High School and her mind was running with ideas. Making friends never really did come easy to her, Santana being the only exception, and even that took a little pull. She came on a whim for reassurance- reassurance that High School would be different than all the other previous school years. As she climbs up the stairs, she made a mental note to herself about asking Santana is she wouldn't mind joining the Glee club at McKinley. After all, she did start cheering because of Brittany, so she probably wouldn't mind joining Glee if she asked.

She's lost in her own thoughts about Glee when she hears…something. Something curious. It was almost as if she heard—no, it couldn't be. She reaches out for the door handle and hears it again. In a matter of seconds, her head is filled with ideas of what she could possibly be hearing. Curiosity wins out, so grips the door handle and pushes it in.

She has to hold onto the handle to keep herself from falling flat on her face at the sight. They were lying with their heads to the edge of the bed, Brittany's hands on either side of Santana's face. Santana frantically wraps a hand around Brittany's body and drags it up through Brittany's hair. Rachel watches as Santana's free hand roams dangerously close towards the other girls' waist.

She wants to leave. She wants turn back. To go back home and forget what she saw- what she's seeing. She attempts to move, but her legs have betrayed her and are numb. Instead, she stands there incompetently, watching as Brittany removes her lips from Santana's and attaches them to her neck. After a few seconds of…searching (that's what Rachel thinks anyway), Santana relinquishes her grip on Brittany's head and rolls her own back onto the bed sheets. With her eyes closed, she bites her lip and lets out a small noise. The same Rachel heard on her way upstairs. Santana opens her eyes briefly and catches a glimpse of Rachel standing in her doorway.

"RACHEL!" Santana yells and partially sits upright, causing Brittany to slide further down onto Santana's lap.

Rachel stays in her place, hand still gripping the door, as she watches Santana bury her face in her hands, mumbling incoherently. Brittany, looking between Santana and Rachel, nervously says, "Hey, Rachel." Santana tares her face away from her hands and glares at Rachel.

"I-I'm sorry." Rachel stammers out. Before she can say anything else, Santana wriggles herself from under Brittany's lap, grabs Rachel's hand, and bounds down the stairs. Thoughts fly through Rachel's head as she is whisked off to the Lopez's back yard. Santana, panting heavily, finally releases Rachel's hand, and paces around the yard.

Santana's frantic; her movements are sporadic, jerky and unsettling to say the least. She looks at Rachel as if she is going to say something- she actually comes and plants herself right in front of her, breathing so hard Rachel wonders if she is about to pass out. After a few seconds, Santana huffs out and continues on her pacing through the yard.

"Why didn't you tell me Santana?"

She stops her pace a few yards away from Rachel, and through gritted teeth, asks, "Tell you what?"

"That you're a lesbian," Santana's chest heaves visibly at the comment, "or at the very least bi-curious-"

"Don't say that… that _word_! My dad is inside!" Once again, she invades Rachel's personal space. She goes so close that their exhales intertwine. "And I'm not, okay."

"Santana, you really should talk about this. You could talk to my father's about your feelings—"

"Feelings? Rachel, you have no idea what I am feeling right now." Rachel can see Santana's eyes turning red. "And I don't need to talk to your father's about _anything_."

"It's completely fine if you're gay Santana. It's obvious that it was not the first time you and Brittany have engaged in that sort of…activity." Santana falters and steps back from Rachel's statement, running her hands through her hair. "I can assure you that talking to someone about this will be much better. I'm not sure if McKinley has a GSA, but we can always start a 'Gay-Les-Ball'. That's what I call a 'Gay-Lesbian-Alliance'. I bet we could even get Brittany to join—"

"Stop, just stop okay! I'm not going to join some, some stupid Gay-Lezzy-"

"Gay-Les-Ball," Rachel interrupts.

"Whatever the hell you call it. I'm not gay. Not everyone is gay, you know."

"Santana, calm down, it's going to be fine," She reaches out and grabs Santana's shoulders. "I know that your parents would not have any issues with their daughter being a lesbian so if you just—"

"Get out."

"W-what?" Rachel's arms fall to her side as she tilts her head to the side.

"You heard me. Get. Out."

Rachel looks around before nodding hesitantly. "Al-alright." She leaves Santana behind in the yard as she heads through the Lopez home. She barely manages out a smile when Mr. Lopez tells her 'Goodbye'.

When she finally reaches home, she waits by the phone for Santana to call. She waits for an explanation for why Santana had kicked her out, she waits for an apology of some sorts, she waits for…for something.

Her something comes in the form of a Blueberry Slushie. The crowd of bystander's, including Quinn Fabray, bursts into laughter, as Santana empties the contents of the cup on Rachel's head. Santana, however, isn't laughing. She walks up to Rachel and whispers in her ear, "You tell no one" before stepping back and heaving the cup at Rachel's chest.

She steps back to stand beside Quinn and puts her hands on her hips. "Welcome to High School, _Berry_." The pair walk off in unison, leaving Rachel soaked through to her loafers.

* * *

><p>The title of this story is inspired by Maika Maile's song of the same title, "Roam When You Shouldn't".<p> 


	2. I Could Become, Something I'm Not

**Author's Note**: Thank you for the positive reception on this story; it's greatly appreciated. This chapter follows the plot line of the show and shifts slightly in the point-of-view.

* * *

><p>She's relieved when Santana doesn't slushie her the next day. Or the day after that. As it turns out, Santana doesn't slushie her anymore. It's mostly a sideways glance that turns into a sneer, or a fleeting remark on her wardrobe on her way to class. Occasionally a nickname will be thrown in there, but that's only because of Quinn.<p>

It's not so bad, she thinks. It's not so bad if you just pretend.

* * *

><p>"I need to talk to you." Rachel can hear someone calling out to her, their voice almost completely muffled by the running water over her head. She's bent under a sink in the girls restroom, wiping her face clean of the latest slushie she was greeted with this morning. Through wet eyes, she looks over towards the door, and reaches up to turn off the tap. "Now," they finish with.<p>

Recognizing the voice, she pulls up from the sink, keeping her eyes to the ground. It's a few weeks into the new semester, and that's the most Rachel has heard from Santana since the slushie incident. She turns to Santana, running a hand along her face to remove any excess water, and states, "If you're going to shove my head in the toilet Santana, I would at least ask that you allow me to take off my sweater." Rachel wraps a hand around her head, moving the wet hair that's clinging in clumps off her neck, effectively exposing the damage to the top of her sweater. "It's new and although Azimo already ruined it, I would rather not have it smell like waste for the rest of the day."

"I'm not going to give you a swirly, Berry. I just wanna ask you something." Santana waves off, while walking calmly, almost mechanical even, towards her. Rachel continues to wipe her face with her hands, and once her vision is fully restored, she's able to note the change in Santana's wardrobe.

"Congratulations on making the Cheerios," she says softly.

Santana picks her head up a bit, looking at herself in the mirror before answering. "Thanks or whatever. Okay, has Quinn come up to you asking questions?"

Rachel draws her eyebrows together with confusion at the seemingly random question. "No. Quinn doesn't usually talk to me unless a slushie is involved. Or a locker. And I don't count the rude comments she writes on my myspace videos as _speaking_ per-se—"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. What I mean is, has she come up to you recently asking questions about," Santana licks her lips faintly before continuing, "about me and Brittany?"

Rachel would almost find this situation comical if anxiety wasn't breaking through Santana's façade. Her mouth may be fixed in a scowl, but Rachel can see her eyes dart around the room- the way they always do when she's nervous; as if looking Rachel in the eyes would say too much without even speaking. Santana's hand closes around the edge of the sink and she uses it for support when she leans onto it. Rachel wonders briefly if the other Cheerios get to see this Santana.

Exhaling lightly, she answers, "No. Quinn has not asked me anything about you or Brittany."

Santana breathes a sigh of relief and her body slackens considerably. "Good, good."

She notices the corners of Santana's mouth twitch upward, like she is about to smile, but they fall back into a scowl. "If you don't mind me asking," Rachel stretches out, "why would Quinn come to me about you and Brittany?"

Santana's body stiffens and grips the sink even tighter while her eyes skim around the bathroom. There goes that nervous habit again. "Well if you must know," she begins, gradually, "Quinn has become 'Little-Miss-Nosy'. She's been preaching all this Religious bullshit lately and I can tell it's directed at me. She knows you and I had some fort of…friendship, so I figured she might come to you sticking her nose in places it shouldn't be."

"No," she states firmly. "Quinn has not come up to me asking anything about the relationship between you and Brittany," she can see Santana grimace at the word 'relationship', "but if she does, which I highly doubt, I promise I won't tell her anything."

"Good," Santana presses a finger to Rachel's face. "And it better stay that way."

Santana turns dramatically and heads towards the door, leaving Rachel dejected. If she wanted to be honest with herself, she would entertain the thought that she expected something more from their interaction. With a sigh, she runs a hand listlessly through her damp hair, and turns the water back on. Well, at least she was prepared with an extra set of clothing-

"Stay late after school today." Rachel looks over at the door with a raised eyebrow, surprised to see Santana still standing in the bathroom. Her back was towards Rachel, but she tilts her head in Rachel's direction and goes on, "Quinn's an ultra-mega bitch on Tuesdays. Her dad picks her up from school and she's like, fucking _pms-ing _the entire day," Santana pauses, and rotates her body more towards Rachel. "She looks for people to fuck with so, hang back after classes to avoid her. Try the Choir Room. I know how much you like to sing, so…"

Rachel doesn't get hear the rest of Santana's statement, because she storm out the door when the bell rings, signaling the end of first period.

* * *

><p>Every Tuesday from that day forward, Rachel spends an extra hour later after school.<p>

* * *

><p>A curious thing she notices about Santana is that she always leaves the school alone. It's not as though she comes to school single-handedly- Brittany's usually in the passenger's seat talking about anything from cat to ducks or something Rachel can't hear over the music they're blasting- but whenever she leaves the school, Santana is always on her own in the parking lot. It's where Rachel decides to go up to her.<p>

"You were right. About the Choir Room." Santana doesn't flinch when Rachel approaches her car. She doesn't even do so much as nod to acknowledge her, instead she continues filing her nails, like Rachel's presence is of no consequence. It leaves her somewhat perturbed, but she pushes on, "Quinn hasn't bothered me on a Tuesday for a while now. Thank you."

Santana casts her eyes up briefly, then returns them back to her hands. "Yep. Don't say I never did you any favors." She rests her back onto the driver's side door and props her right leg up casually.

It takes her almost a full minute of silence before she leans forward and taps Santana on the shoulder to gain her attention. Maintaining eye contact, she starts, "You know, Santana, I was wondering- if you weren't doing anything later, maybe you would like to…"

She breaks off when Santana holds a manicured hand in the air. "I'm gonna stop you right there. The answer is no."

Rachel looses eye contact momentarily, but rebounds quickly with, "Santana, this is just ridiculous." Well, by the way Santana's staring at her now, with her eyes piercing right through her, she knows she's got her full attention. "To throw this friendship away just because of an unfortunate interruption is completely juvenile."

She's standing directly in front of Santana now, blocking her from stepping away. Santana was no longer leaning against her car, but standing straight, gripping the nail file so hard that Rachel can see her nails dig into her palm. "Back off, Rachel," she grits out.

"I said I was sorry, okay. I'm sorry." Santana tries to side step her, but Rachel moves in front of her again. "What more do you want from me—"

Santana doesn't wait for her to finish her sentence. Instead, she gets in her car, and speeds out of the parking lot. Rachel is left standing alone, her arms hanging limply by her side, surrounded by a cloud of exhaust.

* * *

><p>She doesn't make any more attempts to talk to Santana for the rest of the school year.<p>

* * *

><p>"Have you lost your <em>mind<em>?" Rachel was immersed in the crescendo of _RENT's_ "Christmas Bells" when a pair of strong hands pulls her out of her bohemian haze and shoves her into an empty classroom. "You _must_ have to think you could pull some shit like that."

She yanks out her headphones just in time to hear the loud _thud!_ of the door slamming shut. She knows the threat of real danger is minimal, considering the fact that she is still on school property, but she would like to avoid getting shoved into the lockers after hours. The recent additions to the Cheerios were currently in awe over the fact that she could fit into a locker at 15, and it would embarrassing to have to spend the night cramped in one until the morning. Faking bravado, Rachel yells into the darkness, "I have Pepper Spray! And I'm not afraid to use it!", while digging into her bag, pretending to look for a can that wasn't really there. "I also have a Rape Whistle!" she adds for good measure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she's able to detect the distinct movement of a Cheerios skirt, and panic hits her instantly. Her hands are groping around her, trying to latch onto something and her back collides with a hard surface. When a sharp pain hits her lower back, she realizes that she's backed up against the blackboard. She continues her search for something to grab onto, and when she's met with a few stray pieces of chalk, she throws them helplessly around her., hoping to hit her capturer. Just when she's about to throw her fifth consecutive piece of chalk, a car drives past the window, illuminating the room for a fraction of a second. Rachel can briefly make out Santana's face in the dark and drops the chalk out of sheer terror.

She stalks over to where Rachel is standing, pinning her between the blackboard and herself. Santana's hunched over, glaring down at her with this gleam in her eyes that Rachel's only ever seen on 'Predator vs. Prey' on the Discovery Channel; sadly, she knows which one she is in this situation and to be honest, she's scared shitless. "You think you can just upstage Quinn like that, in her own fucking club? Are you _trying_ to get murdered?"

Rachel closes her eyes at Santana's reference to her failed attempt at joining the Celibacy Club earlier in the day. She only did it really to speak with Finn, but it turned into a balloon popping fiasco. When Santana's breath ghosts across her face in a way that causes her to shudder, she stutters out, "I-I was—"

"I can't even _begin_ to understand what you are doing with the Man-child. Or what you would _want_ with him," she drags out the word 'want' as though it stains her lips to think about Finn. "Word to the wise: He's no good. He's about as bright as Quinn is sweet, and although _he_ may not see what's going on between the two of you, but you better believe _she_ does." Santana scoffs, pulling up from Rachel a bit. "If this is your way at getting back at Quinn for being a bitch, you better know that the fuck your doing."

Despite the fact that she knew joining the club would put her on the top of the Cheerios' 'hit list' Rachel was more confused as to why Santana was talking to her anyway. The two hadn't had any significant interactions for over a year, and during her brief moment in the Celibacy Club, Santana hadn't acknowledged her presence. Rachel's breathing shallows, and her chest begins to heave uncontrollably. "Why-why warn me then? Why waste the time and energy of warning me? After school at that."

Santana doesn't respond. They stand in silence for an inordinate amount of time, and when another car rolls by, illuminating the room once more, Rachel catches a glimpse of Santana clenching down on her jaw, as if to keep her from speaking. Eventually, she moves back, straightening out her ponytail in the process.

"Just make sure you know what you're doing," is the last thing she says before she's out the door.

Its only when Rachel gets home, and calms her nerves by playing the _West Side Story_ soundtrack three times in a row, that she remembers that it's Tuesday.

* * *

><p>She's already down the hallway when Schuester tells her he's given Quinn Fabray the solo. <em>Her<em> solo. Furious doesn't even begin to describe what she's feeling. She was not only upset by the solo, but by one of the New Directions' newest member.

"Why are you really joining Glee Club? Is this just Quinn's way of getting back at me for what I said at the Celibacy Club? And more importantly, why didn't you tell me that you could _sing_?"

Santana was applying lip gloss in her locker when Rachel stormed up behind her. She hadn't even turned around to face Rachel; she merely rolled her eyes at her through her mirror and retorted, "Calm down Berry, it's a free country. Who knows, Glee Club might be fun."

A year ago, if she had uttered those words, Rachel would have been ecstatic beyond belief. Now, they just served as a reminder of their severed friendship. She pushes closer towards Santana and says bitterly, "You didn't answer all of my questions."

"Okay, you know what," she slams her locker shut, turning to Rachel. "I don't know who you think you're talking to like that, but you best back up out my grill."

Rachel's lip quivers slightly and she steps back a bit at Santana's warning. Folding her arms, she asks, "Just tell me why you never told me that you could sing?"

Santana mimics Rachel's actions and crosses her arms over her chest. "Singing was your thing, not mine. I didn't want to take that away from you."

"Take it away from me? Santana, telling me that you can sing wouldn't have taken anything away from me."

"Really? I know how passionate you are about it. If I had told you that I could sing, it would have become a competition with you; a fucking _pissing contest_ each time either of us walked into a room. I didn't want that. So, I kept my mouth shut and listened to you blow your freakin' head off for hours." Santana re-opens her locker and pulls out her iPod. Unwrapping the headphones from around the device, she adds, "It's no big deal."

Rachel uncrosses her arms and they fall to her sides. "You did that for me?"

Santana shrugs her shoulders with nonchalance and places the headphones in her ears. "You sung, I stole shit. That's how we worked."

Santana once again leaves her standing alone with her own thoughts and for the first time in her life, Rachel understands what it's like to be on the one stormed off on.

She doesn't go up to Santana anymore times that week, but she does make it her business, however, to listen very closely each time Santana sings.

* * *

><p>There's a moment during "HaloWalking on Sunshine" when Rachel catches a smile on Santana's face that she's seen in a while. Despite the large amount of decongestant in each of their systems, she has a feeling the drug was not the cause of it.

* * *

><p>"You like being in Glee Club. I can tell." Santana was pulling the straps on her suspenders down when Rachel closed in on her in the changing room. "You like performing and I think a part of you liked raising money for Artie."<p>

Santana starts unbuttoning her yellow shirt when she states, "The kid needed the bus. He's in High School- he can't have his dad drive him everywhere."

"You were having fun," Rachel prods.

Santana ignores her and wriggles out of her slacks, tossing them in her duffel bag when she's done. Rachel spots the Cheerios uniform hanging limply off the bench beside Santana.

"Even if you don't want to tell me," Rachel's eyes stay fixed on the uniform, "I know you like it."

Just as she is about to leave, a smile toys at the corner of her lips when she hears Santana hum a tune by Amy Winehouse.

* * *

><p>"We're nothing but distractions. The sooner we realize that… the better." She's standing alone in the middle of a crowded hallway, taken aback by Kurt's choice of words. She knew Kurt harbored an innocent crush on Finn, but to go through the lengths he had gone through to sabotage any chance she had with getting with him was just plain low. A few months ago, Rachel viewed the possibility of dating Finn as a pipe dream, but now that is was actually in sight (despite the fact that he was tethered to Quinn Fabray) she would be lying if she said she wouldn't pull out all the stops to get him.<p>

Unfortunately, all the stops had actually pushed him away.

"Sad Clown Hooker, huh." Santana, appearing out of thin air it seems, clicks her teeth mockingly at Rachel. "Told ya Finn's no good."

Rachel looks beside her, slightly shocked to find Santana standing next to her. After her whole Grease fiasco, she was hoping the situation would be kept to herself and the parties involved. "How did you even find out about that?" she asks softly, her eyes gravitating towards the floor.

Santana's shoulders rise and fall with ease. "Finn told Puck, Puck told me. Honestly Berry, if you were going after someone's man, you should have chosen a character with more personality." She moves around Rachel until she is standing in front of her with a smug grin. "I would have gone as Velma from _Chicago."_

"This isn't funny Santana." Rachel folds her arms over her chest, pretending that is she squeezes tight enough, she can shield herself from whatever Santana is going to come back at her with. "Why are you even talking to me?"

"I'm in a particularly good mood, okay. And look, Finn's an idiot. Although you dress like an old spinster from 1955," she pauses, casting a raised eyebrow over Rachel's outfit, "you don't need to change your appearance just to please him." She waits for Santana to laugh at her, or to make some cynical remark about her infinite number of sweaters, but the odd thing is, she doesn't. Santana actually sounds…sincere.

"Thank you, I suppose," she replies cautiously. "Well, despite what you said about Finn, he didn't really like my look. Turns out Kurt gave me the wrong information about what he likes on a girl and…well…" she leaves off.

"_Glambert_ put you up to this?" Santana shakes her head vigorously, her ponytail hanging unnaturally loose. Rachel can't help but notice that it seems to get lower and lower each day. "No. He's got a bitch side to him, but he wouldn't do something like that unless…" Rachel can see Santana's eyes narrow as she looks past her. "Unless someone planted the seed first." Rachel turns her head to see Quinn walking down the hallway towards her locker.

"Aphasia. Meet me outside McKinley at 4." When she looks back, Santana's talking animatedly into her phone, and Rachel can hear a muffled voice coming through the other end. "Bring the razors." She slides her phone close and pushes Rachel's shoulder lightly with her index finger, moving her out the way.

As she begins her march down the hall, Rachel yells after her, "Where are you going!"

"Damage control!" she calls out over her shoulder.

* * *

><p>There's a note taped to the front of her locker the next day. She opens it and finds a hand-drawn picture of a clown on a stripper pole.<p>

Scribbled in the corner is:

'I've made sure this won't happen again'

She rolls her eyes at the pathetic imagery, but uses the picture as her bookmark for the rest of week.

* * *

><p>"That was pretty nice of you letting someone else have that solo. Even though I think Wheezy is a bigger Diva than you, that was pretty selfless."<p>

Rachel was caught off guard when Santana strode beside her out of the Choir Room. She arches an eyebrow when Santana follows her through the hallway. "Do you ever call anyone by their first name?" she says playfully. The last few weeks between Rachel and Santana, post- _Sad Clown Hooker,_ have been, nice actually. Santana hasn't stormed off on her or put anything weird in her food for weeks.

"Only on Tuesdays. I've gotta keep up with appearances, you know," she jokes with a grin. "Seriously Berry, you could have easily taken that solo for Sectionals, but giving it up like that- I'm impressed."

"Are you excited for Sectionals?"

"It's whatever," she responds with a wave of her hand. "Something to keep me out of trouble, I guess."

"You don't have to be sarcastic with me, Santana. You can be honest." She stops in the middle of the hallway and lightly nudges the other girl to an empty corner. Although the last few weeks have been good for them, part of her expects Santana to shove her into a set of lockers. But, she is pleasantly surprised again when Santana follows her. "You like being in Glee Club, don't you?"

Rachel watches as Santana fidgets with the pleats of her skirt. Reluctantly, she rolls her eyes and answers, "Okay. Maybe it's not _so_ bad after all. So what?"

"So what?" She stares at Santana incredulously. "If you like it, then why do you act so indifferent all the time?"

She looks at Rachel with this raised eyebrow, 'know-it-all' expression on her face. "That right there," she extends a finger to Rachel's heart, "is the reason I act so indifferent." Rachel scrunches her nose due to comprehension, so she goes on. "When you like something so much that you become passionate about it, you get blinded; blinded by that one thing that becomes your entire life.

"Once feelings get involved, forget it. I'm out the fuckin' door." She tilts her head back slightly, "When it's gone, you realize you've got nothing left. My motto is: 'Don't give a damn, don't get hurt'. That's why I'm impressed you gave up the solo like that. Singing is all you ever—"

"You're afraid of disappointment," she cuts in. Rachel breathes out, taking in what Santana is saying to her- even if she doesn't realize it herself. "You're afraid of being let down, which is why you act so indifferent. It makes so much sense!" She brings her hand to her forehead at the sudden realization.

A slight flush creeps over the bridge of Santana's nose before she comments, "You're thinking way too much into this."

"Am I?" Rachel moves closer to Santana, studying her expression; waiting for it to crack. "I think you really do like Glee Club. You like it so much that you're afraid to show it, because you're afraid of getting let down." Santana's cheeks give her away. "Take the Cheerios! I know for a fact that you don't care for Cheerleading," Santana doesn't even try to deny it, "but you do it because you know that won't get let down. If there are no feelings involved, you can't get disappointed. But Glee… Glee is something you care about, isn't it?"

Santana's eyes begin dancing around the hallway. With a grin, Rachel carries on, "I bet you even wanted to sing at Sectionals. Although, you lack the proper training that I have, who knows. Maybe next year if you work your—"

"Oh, don't underestimate the things that I can do," Santana must have recovered from some internal battle with her emotions, because her eyes have settled on Rachel and her voice comes out lighthearted. A grin once appears on Santana's face and she saunters down the hallway. Before she is completely out of sight, she yells jokingly, "See you on the bus. _Rachel_."

She takes the long way on her walk home, content with the fact that she knows Santana definitely likes Glee Club.

* * *

><p>"You leaked the set list!" Kurt's normally composed demeanor was coming undone as the competition fell apart around them. The other schools, The Haverbrook School for the Deaf and The Jane Adams Academy, had pretty much owned them with their own set list. "You don't want to be here, you're just Sue Sylvester's little moles!" Santana folds her arms while Brittany looks around the room, with her bottom lip trembling slightly.<p>

"I know for a fact that's true," Quinn chimes in. "Sue asked us to spy for her." After every slushie, every shove in the hallway, every dirty photo of her drawn on the bathroom walls, she hoped a win at Sectionals would be enough to make it all go away; as if winning could somehow erase the past two years. For Santana of all people to take it away from her…it just leaves her spent.

She shakes her head with an exasperated expression and aims it at Santana.

"Look, we may still be Cheerios, but neither of us ever gave Sue the set list." Santana's eyes sought out Rachel's. She almost felt sorry for her.

"Well, I-I did, but I didn't know what she was gonna do with it." The room groans collectively at Brittany's confession; Rachel made it a point to roll her eyes at Santana.

Distancing herself from Brittany, Santana says unquaveringly, "Okay look, believe what you want, but no one's _forcing_ me to be here. And if you ever tell anyone this, I'll deny it…" Santana keeps her eyes on Rachel, occasionally moving them around the others in the room, but she knows the speech is for her. "but I like being in Glee Club." Rachel stares at her with indifference. "It's the best part of my day, okay. I wasn't gonna go and mess it up." With her arms still crossed, Santana moves to sit in the chair closest to Rachel.

The entire room falls silent, but Rachel focuses on Santana. With everything this Glee Club has gone through, Rachel wants to trust her. Part of her feels she has to. With a clear voice, she states, "I believe you."

For Rachel, the smile that Santana gives her was winning the entire competition.

* * *

><p>They do win. For the first time in over a year, she hugs Santana on the bus back to school.<p>

She finds it scary how much she misses it.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Rachel's leaning on a railing inside the rink when Santana rolls up next to her, slightly panting from her skate over. She puts her hands behind her on the railing and nudges Rachel's foot lightly. "If I knew having Cheerios Practice in the auditorium would lead us here, I would have personally suggested it to Coach Sylvester."<p>

Since Sue had commandeered the auditorium for the remaining week, Mr. Schuester had been kind enough to find them a temporary solution. The skate rink had been a better idea than anyone had ever imagined. Rachel turns her head to find Santana staring down at her.

With a hint of edge in her voice, she says "You do know I was joking, right? I didn't tell her to take the auditorium."

A grin spreads its way across Rachel's face before she answers. "I know you were joking Santana. I still understand humor."

Santana raises her eyebrows and chuckles. "Just checking. Sometimes I worry about you, ya know."

That earns a pout from Rachel, who comes back with, "Oh, you worry about me?"

"Yeah, I worry about you," she manages out between laughs. Rachel looks over at Santana, whose eyes begin to roam around the rink, following a few of the Glee Members. When she turns her attention back to Rachel, she moves a little closer and lowers her head before speaking. "Thank you," she says tentatively, "for believing in me."

Rachel shrugs and nudges Santana's foot with her own. "You didn't give me a reason not to."

When her eyes meet Santana's, a silence settles over them and Rachel studies Santana's face. Her expression is unchanging, consistently static and Rachel wonders if she's attempting to mask her emotions. She's never seen it before, and it's not the stagnant expression that she wears when she cheers, but it's something else. Something Rachel can't quite put a finger on—

Santana pushes off from the railing, bringing Rachel out of her musings and back to reality. Biting her lip, Santana gently hits Rachel in the stomach with the back of her hand, earning a slight gasp from her. Rachel opens her mouth to comeback, but Santana's already rolled away from her and yelling over her shoulder, "I'll race you!"

Rachel replies by pushing off the railing and racing towards Santana with a smile stuck on her face. For the rest of the afternoon, she allows herself to forget everything that has happened between them. For the rest of the afternoon, she's wrapped up in racing Santana around the rink, as if they were children once again.

* * *

><p>"Finn's a moron, you know." Rachel's sitting in the front row of the Choir Room when she hears Santana walk down the risers beside her. "He preaches about relationships being important to him and shit, but all he really cares about is his reputation."<p>

She presses the 'OFF' button on the projector, wishing that it could somehow reverse time and stop her from making the "Run Joey Run" video. She feels Santana's fingertips ghost across her shoulder before she responds. "Thank you Santana, but perhaps they were all right. I probably should not have casted three guys to play my male lead; Jesse should have been enough." Rachel looks up at Santana and says quietly, "And thank you again for being in my video. You and Brittany were probably the best part."

"Well, you did bribe me and Britts with a coupon to Breadstix, so I couldn't say no," she steps down until she's standing in from of Rachel. "Don't take what Finn says too seriously. The kid's got no clue what's important to him. At least you know what you want."

"What do you want?" Rachel questions.

Santana's eyes linger on Rachel's for a moment, before her eyes slowly flit around the room. When they finally settle back on Rachel, a small, cocky grin appears on her face, "Some kush would be nice…"

She raises an eyebrow at the brash comment, but chuckles nonetheless as Santana advances towards the door. Rachel, being vigilant, pushes further with, "What do you really want?"

She looks down at the ground before looking back up at Rachel. With a half-hearted smile, she says, "Maybe another time, Berry." Santana continues towards the door, but when she reaches it, she turns back to Rachel with a wide smile on her face. "And although Britt and I were smoking hot during that video," she places a hand on her hip and bites down on her lower lip, "I'm pretty sure the best part was your face at the end."

Santana jokingly gives her a small salute before heading out to Cheerios practice.

* * *

><p>On the worst day of her life, she finds a pack of <em>Halls<em> in her locker. Although she's sure that a packet of throat soothers will not cure her laryngitis, she is curious about how they got there. When she examines the package she turns it over to find that the price tag was still on it. Rachel scans the crowded hallway until she finds Santana leaning at her own locker. She contemplates walking over and asking Santana how she broke into her locker, but she notices the look she's throwing Mercedes, who's talking to Puck further down the hall.

She opts for her bowl of cereal instead and lethargically walks to class.

* * *

><p>"'Sup, Rachel <em>Corcoran<em>?" Rachel can hear Santana's voice echoing through the empty auditorium, and the fact that she used her biological mother's last name only makes her sink further down in her seat. "That's all everyone's been talking about for the past few days. I should have known you'd come from a musical background with that big mouth of yours," she teases.

Rachel wipes her cheek with handkerchief that's already soaked through. Through half-open eyes, she looks up from her seat in the auditorium at Santana and pleads, "Please, not right now Santana. I'm not in the mood."

Santana moves in front of Rachel to get a better look at her. "Woah, what's with the tears? I thought you would have been happy to find your mom."

Rachel sniffles before answering. "While I have dreamed of this moment for years, as you may recall since it was the subject of many late-night sleepovers," Santana's crossed her arms and nods in agreement at her statement, "it did not turn out as I thought it would." She wipes stray tear away with the back of her hand and breathes in deeply before she continues. "She would prefer it if we were not in contact with each other."

"Shit Berry," Santana's bag actually slips off her shoulder at Rachel's confession when she unfolds her arms. "What the fuck is wrong with her?"

Rachel shifts, and tries to sit up higher in her seat, hoping it would enable her to regain control the overabundance of emotions coursing through her body. "I understand why she did it Santana. I completely agree that this relationship may be…confusing for me, especially since I am no longer a child. I understand she is doing it to protect me." She knows that the constant inflections in her voice are giving her away, and she squeezes the handkerchief in an attempt to regain her composure. "I understand completely, but that does not mean that it hurts any less."

Rachel knows she's making a poor attempt to stop her body from shaking and after a few seconds, she can see Santana's outstretched arms beckoning her closer. The next thing she knows, she's burying her head into Santana's chest, crying uncontrollably to the point where her throat feels raw and hollow. Rachel wonders momentarily if Sue will scold Santana for ruining her uniform, but those thoughts are quelled when Santana suns her hand along her back. _"It'll be okay. It'll be alright."_

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the Auditorium, Rachel pressed tightly against Santana's soaked chest. When the custodians inform them that the school is about to close, Rachel is surprised when Santana offers her a ride home. She's even more surprised when she spends the night, pushing stray strands of hair out of her face while whispering words of comfort in her ear throughout the night.

* * *

><p>Somehow, despite their loss at Regional's, they're able to keep the club for another year. When Rachel glances over at the back row during Mr. Scheuster and Puckerman's version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow", she notices this smile on Santana's face. This certain smile she hasn't seen on Santana in a while. They make eye contact momentarily, and when Santana mouths "hi" to her, it brings out a smile she hasn't felt on herself in a while, either.<p>

They're not friends. Not really. But, they're not enemies either.

It's not so bad, she thinks.

* * *

><p>The title of this chapter is inspired by Penguin Prison's, "Something I'm Not"<p> 


	3. This Costume Party is Over

**Authors Note:** I would like to thank all of you that have taken the time out to read this story. Again, it is really appreciated. This is the final installment and the last shift in point-of-view. As I mentioned earlier, it follows the show's plot line until the end.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_ or any other Company/Trademark/Other Copyrighted things I mention in this chapter.

* * *

><p>The first thing she notices when she walks into school is Rachel and the Jolly Green Giant talking to Jewfro. She rolls her eyes at the fact they they're still together, ignoring the goofy wave Finn sends her way. Rachel looks over and her lips form a small, cautious smile.<p>

Santana nods and returns with a smirk.

She hates to admit it, but a big part of her missed Rachel during the summer.

* * *

><p>"Why'd you do it?" Rachel's almost inaudible voice is coming from behind her, yet she can still detect a hint of disappointment in it.<p>

Santana's sitting on a bench in the locker room, shoving clothes into the duffel bag between her legs, pretending that it was Quinn Fabray's head. She knew it was only a matter of time before Rachel would show up. Quinn may have only told Coach Sylvester about Santana's 'Summer Surgery', but this is Ohio. By lunchtime, half the freshmen were gawking at her chest.

"Although it was wrong of Quinn to dig into your personal business just to become a Cheerio again…I just want to know why you would do it."

She casts her eyes down at the 'site' in question, and clenches down on her jaw to keep herself from slamming her fist into something. Angling herself slightly away from Rachel's voice, she continues filling her bag with whatever her hand happens to fall on.

"Just tell me why Santana…" She feels the tips of Rachel's fingers brush against her shoulder—

It happens so quickly that she doesn't remember tossing her bag on the other side of the room. The next thing she knows, she's got Rachel pinned between a row of lockers. Through gritted teeth, she growls out, "Do they look any different to you?"

"I-I don't know," She slams the open locker next to Rachel's head close and the stammering stops.

"I said, 'Do they look any different to you?'" her voice carrying through the empty locker room.

Biting down on her lip, Rachel quickly flashes her eyes over Santana's chest. "No," she breathes out meekly.

"Well there's your answer," she watches as the color drains from Rachel's face. Slowly, she pulls back and retrieves her discarded bag.

"I don't get it. Why would you lie?"

She's half way out the door when she has a momentary lapse in judgment and turns around to face Rachel, who's still standing with her back against the lockers.

Santana tosses her duffel bag over her right shoulder and confesses, "Not everyone stands out as easily as you do."

* * *

><p>"Hey dwarf, has anyone ever told you that you dress like one of the bait girls on <em>To Catch a Predator<em>?"

Rachel's face falls before she even finishes her sentence.

She tells herself she means it. In that moment, she thinks she does.

* * *

><p>Although being demoted to the bottom of the pyramid sucks, it's only a minor snag. To be honest, the act of being demoted doesn't bother her- it's the fact that it was taken from her. That, in conjunction with the setback with Brittany, pretty much fucked up her week in a <em>major<em> way. The only thing that can make the rest of the day worthwhile is that dinner at Breadsticks. And as much as Santana makes fun of her, she knows that she and Mercedes make a damned good team. It's the only thing that brought her out of her funk; aside from torturing the new Cheerios, of course. She strides to her locker after "River Deep, Mountain High", opening a fresh tube of lip gloss and planning for the rest of the week. Now all she has to do is convince Schue to give her a solo at Sectionals and—

"Tina Turner? I am thoroughly impressed by your song selection." Just as she started to apply her lip gloss, Rachel had appeared out of nowhere, wearing a slight smirk. "I am surprised, however, that you didn't perform with Brittany."

She hadn't spoken to Rachel since the locker room incident, but since she was in a good mood, she decides to humor her. "I wanted to win and Aretha was available," she shrugs off.

"That duet was amazing, Santana. It really was." Santana can feel Rachel inching closer to her. "I knew you had a good voice, but I didn't know it was that good. I am more than impressed, actually."

Smacking her lips, she returns the lip gloss to her locker and closes it. "I told you to never underestimate me, Berry." The expression Rachel gives her, a mixture of admiration and approval, genuinely makes her laugh. Amused, she leans in close to Rachel's ear and whispers, "You'd be amazed at the things that I can do."

She leaves a slightly stunned Rachel standing alone in the hallway as she walks off with a plan to make things right with Brittany.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, things don't exactly go according to plan.<p>

In more ways than one.

* * *

><p>"You're so goddamned selfish sometimes, did you know that?" The tone in her voice causes Rachel to jump and drop a few of her books. "First you try to take over Glee Club when Schuester leaves, then you go to his house and try to get Ms. Holliday fired. What the hell is wrong with you?"<p>

Rachel rolls her eyes before she starts, "Okay, I'm not even going to ask how you found out about my visit to Mr. Schuester's house, but I can tell you, it was not my intention to get her fired." She bends down to pick up a few of her books and when she's up again, she angles her head away from Santana to finish, "Removed from Glee Club yes, I'll admit. But not fired."

"Oh please, but the crap Man-hands," she can see Rachel wince at the nickname, "you want him back so he can give you the solo at Sectionals. You did it for yourself."

Rachel hesitates before responding. "Okay, you're right. Maybe I do want a solo…but that's only because I want the team to win—"

"Since when do you think about 'the team'? You weren't thinking about 'the team' when you sent that Moonshine girl to a Crack house."

"Sunshine," Rachel interjects.

"Whatever, 'Other-Tina'," she holds up her hands signaling quotations. "You weren't thinking about 'the team' then. You weren't thinking about 'the team' when you dated Jesse St. Jerkoff, who ended up being a _douchebag_ to you; though less of an idiot than Finn." Rachel's face hardens at Santana's accurate comments. "You don't care about 'the team'. All you care about is yourself."

The lines in Rachel's forehead crease as she knits her eyebrows together. "I thought you were indifferent about everything. I thought that you didn't _care_ about anything."

"Well maybe I _care_ that people in this club, other than you, get to sing for once. With Holliday here, we all have a shot at getting to sing a solo." Ms. Holliday may have been a substitute, but Santana knew that she would allow everyone to show their strengths, more so than Schuester ever did. She had a shot at doing something she actually wanted to do and she was _not_ about to let that go.

"You're so blinded by your own ambition to be Number 1 all the freaking time that you forget that there are _members_ in this club and not just props to 'sway in the background' while you sing! God, you're so annoying!"

By the way Rachel steps back and straightens out her skirt, Santana can tell she is on the verge of tears. "If I'm so annoying, then why are you even still talking to me?" Rachel's voice comes out calm, despite the sudden burst of color on her cheeks.

"You're right."

She makes sure that she pushes Rachel's shoulder hard when she walks past her.

* * *

><p>The Glee Club rides together on the way to Carole and Burt's wedding. She doesn't make eye contact with Rachel the entire time.<p>

When Rachel tries to reach out to her during the wedding, she brushes past her towards the dance floor, and dances with Puckerman.

* * *

><p>"We need to talk…" Rachel's voice is low and steady as she advances towards Santana in the Church's bathroom. "You're behavior in the past few weeks has been- erratic to say the least." Santana tightens her grip on the edge of the sink. She wasn't even aware she was using it for support until that moment. "One minute you seem happy and the next, you're yelling at me. In Spanish no less. I am more than confused by your actions."<p>

She clenches down on the inside of her cheek before speaking. "Go away, _Troll_, before I step on you."

"Calling me names isn't going to fix whatever problem you have." She can see Rachel walking towards her through the mirror. "And I want to know what you were talking to Finn about earlier."

Santana's face contorts in a way she didn't know was possible as her mind flashes to that crappy motel room she shared with Finn last year. The only reason she slept with him because of the Cheerios. In fact, the only thing she ever did last year was because of the Cheerios. And when she thinks of how Finn was too ashamed to tell anyone that they had slept together, it ignites something inside her. Something she can't quite understand, so she does what comes naturally to her. She stands up, straightens the flower in her hair, and heads towards the door.

She doesn't say anything else to Rachel, but the look she throws her is more than enough. Santana stops before she's out the door completely, forces a smile on her face and returns to The Reception.

* * *

><p>"This isn't just about me, it's about the team." Throughout the entire argument everyone was having about who would sing at Sectionals, she stayed quiet. That was, until Finn decided to talk about 'the team'.<p>

"You are such a hypocrite." Finn had been grating on her nerves and it's seriously about time someone called him on his bullshit—

Rachel's scoff from the front row breaks her concentration. "Like you even know what that means."

In Santana's mind, shit just got real. "It means that your boyfriend is full of _crap_, Hobbit."

"You know what," Santana can tell by the way Rachel spins around to look at her that she is on the edge. "Ever since the wedding you have been up my butt and I am sick of it!"

"Come on, Rachel, she's not worth it."

The moment Finn decides to open his mouth is the moment she realizes that he actually _is_ dumber than a box of rocks. "Oh really, cuz that's not what you thought last year in that motel room." She can't see it, but judging by Rachel's expression, Finn's got that gassy-infant look on his face. "That's right _yentl_. You're 'sweetheart', he's been lying to you. 'Cuz he and I _totally_ got it on last year."

Schuester goes on, talking something about Sectionals, but she's struck by the look on Rachel's face. Santana recognizes it all too well because it's the same she wore when Brittany walked away from her. With Artie.

A twinge of guilt hits her in the chest, but she suppresses it. She puts on a scowl and leans back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest.

_Don't give a damn, don't get hurt._

* * *

><p>At Sectionals she gets her solo. And she fucking loves it.<p>

They tie for first place, and she doesn't think she's done anything more important before in her life. But when she looks over at Rachel's face after the performance, into those eyes that seem to be lost somewhere distant, she wonders if it was worth it to sing the damn song at all.

* * *

><p>"Finn was right. About me being mad about 'The Santana' of it all." Rachel's voice came up behind her as she was throwing books into her school bag. She's referring to the argument she and Finn had in the greenroom at Sectionals. As soon as Finn uttered to Rachel, "You care about 'The Santana' of it all", she knew it was true. She was hoping the situation would have blown over after their win, but she shouldn't have expected that coming from Rachel.<p>

"Why couldn't you just come and tell me what happened? Why did you allow me to be _humiliated_ in front of everyone? I know you may not like me Santana, but after everything we've been through, I thought you could have at least come to me about sleeping with my boyfriend."

She releases her grip on her bag and spins around to Rachel. "He wasn't your boyfriend at the time! You were with Jesse and he was available; that's all it was!" She honestly didn't know her voice could go that loud.

"That's all it was? Santana, he was my first boyfriend. The first person to ever have genuine _feelings_ for me and you took that away." She initially matched Santana's intensity, but somewhere along the line, her voice had died out.

"First of all, as I recall, _I _was the first person to ever have 'genuine feelings' for you seeing as how I was your first goddamned friend!" The tears were already flowing down Rachel's face, but she couldn't stop herself. "Second of all, I didn't take anything away from you. If you want him, you can have him! Third…"

Between second and third, she'd started shaking. Between second and third, she felt her own tears creeping up on her. Between second and third, she just stopped fucking caring.

Before she Rachel can come back with some ridiculous comment, she's already down the hall.

She doesn't think she's ever run that fast before in her life.

* * *

><p>Winter break comes and goes without a shred of significance.<p>

When she quits the Cheerios, and performs at the halftime show, Rachel doesn't make eye contact with her.

It's not as if she was looking for something anyway.

* * *

><p>When Finn suggests setting up a kissing booth as a charity for the Glee Club, she's pretty sure the boy has lost his mind.<p>

When the conversation somehow turns against her, she's pretty sure she's lost her mind. Holding her own, she folds her arms and fixes her face into a scowl. It's all she ever seems to do lately.

"Five minutes ago you said Mr. Schue belonged in a 12-Step Program." That was probably the first time Santana's actually ever heard Tina speak; the girl's got her tongue down Mike's throat so much, she's amazed she can form sentences.

"Wait, what?" Schuester's incompetence to understand anything outside 'Songs of the 90's' only furthered her belief that he was actually Finn's father.

"You're addicted to vests." She thought his vest fetish was pretty obvious. The guy can't go one week without wearing at least three.

"The truth is Santana, you can dish it out, but you can't take it." When Rachel pipes up from the back row, it's the only voice that holds any significance. "Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I am destined to play the title role in the Broadway Musical Version of _Willow_, but the only job you're ever going to have is working on a pole!"

…

It gets to her. More than she can admit, but it does. She looks around for support and when she is met with blank, indifferent faces, "Fine," is all she can say before she is out the door.

Happy fucking Valentine's Day

* * *

><p>The next day she finds a note taped on her locker with a sticker of a gold star on it.<p>

She tosses it in the trash before her mind even entertains the idea of reading it.

* * *

><p>Despite the promise of any drink of her choice, she doesn't know why she agrees to go to 'The Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza' in the first place. When she's gripping the railing to steady herself up the familiar flight of stairs, she tells herself it's because she had nothing else better to do.<p>

She almost believes it.

Pausing slightly to kick off her boots, she steps further until she reaches the opening of a bedroom. Finding that it was slightly ajar, she lets her hand rest on the gold star that sits on the door and pushes her way through toward the bed. Although she can't see it in the dark, she imagines the four-poster bed is in the same spot it has been for years.

Now if she can just land without hitting a post—

"_Fuck_!" Her foot lands on something sharp, the underside of, a headband or something. She falls, ungracefully at that, face first onto the bad. When the pain finally starts to dull, she pulls on the covers only to be met with resistance. After a few tugs, an arm was thrown languidly around her neck, pulling her into a whisper.

"Blaine? Back for another duet?"

That was all it took. She didn't know why Rachel uttering someone else's name set her off, but before she knew it, she was sobbing into the crook of the other girl's neck. She blames her genes.

"I just don't understand why no one wants me?" she finds herself saying between sobs. "Sam didn't even realize I passed out on the stage, the Trout Mouth." She pauses to catch her breath. "Britt and I were playing Strip Poker," she explains. "We were looking for her bra and the next thing I knew, I woke up… alone." Closing her eyes, she leans forward and wipes some mascara off her face. "Sam probably went off with Quinn; I know he still wants her. Everyone fucking wants her."

"No Santana, don't think like that," Rachel slurs, "you're great. You're funny, and popular and pretty—" She pushes herself out of Rachel's arms and crosses her own over her chest.

"Pretty enough to work on a pole, right?" As her eyes finally adjust to the darkness, she's finally able to look Rachel in the eyes. The only emotion Santana can think of to describe them would be vulnerability.

"I'm sorry for saying that. It was out of line," Rachel murmurs. Santana ignores her and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her dress. "I guess I was still mad at you for sleeping with Finn and not telling me."

Santana takes a large breath before starting, "He wasn't even that good of a lay. I practically had to do all the work while Paul Bunyan just laid there with this Curious George look on his face." Out the corner of her somewhat blurred vision, she can see Rachel shut her eyes at the description. "He wanted it to be you, you know. He actually had the balls to say that it didn't mean anything. I swear the entire time he wanted it to be you."

When Rachel does open her eyes, a slightly lopsided smile spreads across her face. "Really?" she says hopefully. It sets Santana off. Again.

"That's exactly what I mean!" Her tears start to run at a painfully, unattractive rate (she's glad it's dark) and it takes her several tries before she has enough air in her lungs to continue. "Finn had the opportunity of a lifetime to get up on this hot piece of action, and he thought about you. Sam is so hung up on Quinn that the only time he notices I'm there is if I'm watching _Avatar_. I think that's the only reason he asked me to wear this stupid dress," she tugs at the collar of her striped blue dress. "And I don't even want to know what the hell's up with Puckerman." She pauses when Rachel hands her something to wipe her nose off with. "Even Brittany's with Professor X now." Her voice comes out uncharacteristically small when she confesses, "I just want someone to _want_ me. I just want to feel _wanted_. I'm a fucking afterthought to everyone."

Rachel shakes her head and puts her arm around Santana's shoulder. "No Santana, stop this right—" a small hiccup escapes her, "right now. You are _not_ an afterthought, okay? You are a beautiful and anyone would be lucky to have you."

She let Rachel's words settle, while she twists her fingers around whatever Rachel gave her. After a while, she asks, "Why haven't you kicked me out yet? I've been nothing but a bitch to you for years."

Rachel leans sideways and nudges her shoulder with her head. "You've always been a bitch Santana," her head turns at Rachel's blunt statement. "But you're my bitch."

"_Ay, dios mio…"_

Rachel hiccups, "Not like that." She places her hand on Santana's knee and gives it a squeeze. "That's reserved for Brittany."

"Shut up," she drawls out, shoving Rachel playfully on the shoulder. It's only then that she realizes that Rachel's shoulder is unusually bare. And, now that she's paying attention to it, the only pieces of clothing she can make out on Rachel are two black straps. She looks down at her lap where green, tissue-like fabric is covering her legs. She grabs a fistful and brings it closer to her eyes. "Uh…Is this your dress?"

Rachel's head lolls to the side briefly before looking down at her herself. "Yeah. I took it off once I saw myself in the mirror. I don't know what I was thinking, really." Santana brings the dress to her face once again, wiping off the remaining mascara-filled tears. Her eyes steal a peek at the door, and she wonders how long it'll take to get her home in this state. Rachel interrupts her thoughts with, "You can stay the night if you want."

Before she even has a chance to respond, Rachel's already lifting the covers and inviting Santana under. She finds it easy (too easy, she'll admit) to slip in and fix her back against Rachel as she pulls the covers over the two of them. Santana can feel herself drifting as soon as her head hits the pillow and Rachel snakes an arm securely around her waist.

The last thing she remembers before falling into a dream about pink polka-dots, she whispers to Rachel, "I still think you're prettier than Quinn."

* * *

><p>She wakes up to Gold Stars above her head and a half naked Rachel Berry in next to her. Her thoughts instantly try to remember if she and Rachel did anything unmentionable, but once she looks down at her own fully clothed body, the relinquishes them. She wants to run. She wants to run home. To run home and pretend that she didn't spend the previous night drunk in the Berry's basement.<p>

But she doesn't. When Santana lifts the covers to find that Rachel's arm was wrapped around her waist the entire night, she changes her mind. Instead, she pulls the comforter back over the two of them, and falls asleep once again.

* * *

><p>She finds another note taped to the front of her locker with a gold star on it.<p>

When she opens it, she finds two words written neatly in the center:

'Thank You'

Santana smiles to herself, and shoves the note into her back pocket.

* * *

><p>After their win at Regional's, she hugs Rachel on the bus back to school.<p>

She finds it scary how much she needs it.

* * *

><p>It's cold. And red. And humiliating.<p>

Santana's standing with her mouth hanging open, surrounded by entire student body, dripping with the unexpected slushie Karofsky decided to toss at her. A few of them are silent, just as shocked as she is. But that's only a few of them.

Most of them, she can hear, are laughing. It starts out low, a kid snickering in the corner, but it quickly escalates into full on laughter.

She hears Brittany whisper, "Come on," and she feels a hand on her shoulder, attempting to lead her away from the crowd. Santana shakes her head lightly, some of the slushie hitting Brittany in the process, and steps back until she is out of her reach. Brittany reaches out for her again, but it's all too much. Too _freaking_ much. So she turns and walks in the opposite direction of Brittany, trying to get away from it all.

The laughter only increases as she goes past each classroom, leaving a trail of red behind her. The laughter of people who normally cower in her presence becomes etched in her mind as she makes her way down the hall. She closes her eyes briefly, trying to block out the laughter, the whispers and the _squish_ of her shoes on the linoleum floor.

With her shoulders arched, she slams the door open to the nearest bathroom, not bothering to check the gender, and yells, "Everybody out, Now!" The two freshman Cheerios that were applying their lip gloss in the mirror take one look at Santana's appearance and scurry out, practically with their tails between their legs. When Santana reaches the sink, she doesn't even look up at her reflection before she shoves her head under the tap. As the cold water runs down her head, she opens her mouth to allow the water to flow in and rinse her mouth free from the cherry flavor.

She keeps her head under the sink until the water begins to overflow onto the floor. Santana's mind attempts to focus on the monotonous rush of the water, whilst trying unsuccessfully to block out thoughts of the film _Carrie_; the film's most memorable line, "They're all gonna laugh at you!", is on a continuous loop in her head. With a sigh she pulls her head up from the sink, blindly reaching around for something to wipe her face with.

Her hand comes in contact with a body and her eyes immediately fly open. Rachel's standing in front of her, holding open a white towel. She doesn't say anything to Santana when places her hand under the sink and wets the towel. When it's damp enough, Rachel reaches a hand behind her, pulling out the band holding her hair up and gestures Santana closer. The next thing she feels is Rachel softly wiping her face.

So she stands there with her eyes closed, while Rachel wipes her down, trying her damnedest not to break down from the irony. She's gentle about it, and when Santana opens her eyes briefly, she can see how careful her eyes move across her face so she doesn't rush. Her movements are calculated and precise, and Santana can't help but cringe inwardly at the fact that they come from years of experience. Each time Rachel slides the towel across her cheek or down her hair, it's as if every laugh she got in the hallway is erased. They stand in silence for minutes, the only noise coming from the faucet when Rachel occasionally turns it on to rinse the towel clean.

When she no longer feels Rachel's hands on her, she opens her eyes again and to find that Rachel's abandoned the towel, and is pulling her sweater over her head. She takes off her blouse and extends it forward, motioning for Santana to take it. Santana pulls off her own ruined striped shirt, and takes the one Rachel gives her. She begins to button it, feeling the familiar sensation of heat rising to her cheeks, while Rachel pulls her sweater back on. Santana can barely finish the last button when she feels Rachel wrap her arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Rachel is the first to pull back, but only enough so that their faces are inches apart. She feels Rachel's hands grab the side of her head, pulling her closer. In the few seconds it takes for Rachel to pull her down, she can see the girl stand on her toes before she feels her lips leave a long, lingering kiss on her forehead. As they separate, Rachel takes hold of the towel once again and begins to wipe up the remaining water off Santana's face. When a single tear slides down her cheek, Rachel wipes that up as well.

* * *

><p>The Monday after their failed excuse of Prom, she finds another note on her locker. This time, it doesn't have a gold star on it. Instead, there's a sticker of a Crown placed in the center.<p>

Written neatly underneath it is:

'You may not believe me Santana, but I voted for you. I thought you deserved to win.'

She folds the note carefully and runs her fingers slowly over Rachel's handwriting, before placing it in her Music Book.

* * *

><p>Rachel was standing in the middle of the airport, looking up at the departure time for their flight to New York. The rest of the Glee kids were chatting mindlessly around her while she was standing with her neck craned up towards the call board. Rachel had been unusually silent on the ride there and once they'd gotten in the airport, she shied away from the group, chewing on her nails every once in a while. Santana walked up slowly, taking a spot near her side. "You ready for this?"<p>

Rachel looks over at her with the widest smile Santana has ever seen. She can't help but think that she's wearing a smile equally as been. "I was born ready," is Rachel's only response.

She holds her fist out, cocking her head to the side slightly. "Let's do this," she says confidently. Rachel leans over, and daps her fist with Santana's.

She doesn't think she's ever been more excited about anything before in her life.

* * *

><p>"Escucha, <em>soy de<em>_ Lima Heights Adjacent_, y yo tengo orgullo! ¿Sabes lo que pasa en _Lima Heights Adjacent_? Cosas malas!"

It takes Mike, Quinn and Sam to hold her down. That kiss between Rachel and Finn cost them everything and pretty much solidified their loss at Nationals. Santana's surprised that she contained herself from beating the living crap out of the two of them until they were all back at the hotel room.

"Calm down, Santana! We have next year!" Mike was yelling in her ear, tightening his grip on her wait. "We can do it next year!"

"What if there isn't a next year? There wasn't even supposed to be a 'this year', remember!" The more and more she thought about how close they were to wining the whole fucking thing, the more and more she tried to break out of their grip. She pushed her weight down on Sam, flailing her arms and legs in an attempt to put him off balance. But it was Quinn who slipped up- she felt the blonds arm lift off of hers ever so slightly, and she used that to her advantage to lunge out of her grip. Before Quinn could even hold her back, she already had one arm out and digging the heel of her hand into Mike's head.

When she feels his grip loosen around her waist, she makes a break for it. She gets about two steps before she's tackled backwards onto the bed by Sam; she forgot he was a football player. He's hovering over her, holding her arms at her sides with her wrists facing up, keeping her legs down with his own.

"It's over Santana," he grunts out, struggling against her. "Just let it go."

She can feel everyone's eyes on her as Sam keeps her pinned to the bed, but the ones she cares about the most right now won't even look at her. She wants to push him off of her and make a run for it, but she doesn't. For the first time in her life, she doesn't run. Her mind is running enough for her.

Everything that they had been working towards. Everything _she_ had been working towards-

Gone.

* * *

><p>"Santana. Santana, wake up. Santana!"<p>

A pair of hands had rolls Santana onto her back and a line of saliva slides along the side of the cheek. She raises the back of her hand lazily across her face to wipe the cold droll off when she notices a figure hovering above her. A slur of words escape her mouth before finally settling on, "Brittany?"

The figure groans and shifts through the darkness. "No, but get up anyway." Santana was about to roll her eyes when a set of clothes were thrown across her face, obscuring her already clouded vision in the dark. "Put these on; I want to get out of here before Mr. Schuester realizes that we're gone."

It was Santana's turn to groan as she recognized the voice. Somehow, with a renewed strength, she grabs the clothes and tosses them in the direction of Rachel's voice. "No friggen way, Berry. After what you did, you're lucky I haven't murdered you in your sleep." she whispers hoarsely and tosses the sheets over her head, gripping them as if she could block out Rachel completely.

She heard Rachel sigh before whispering, "Do you always have to be so difficult?" The bed depress near her feet, indicating that Rachel was now sitting on her bed. It only makes her grip the sheets harder. "Come on, I want to show you something."

"Go away before I cut you."

"I swear you're more dramatic than me sometimes." Santana feels the bed return to normalcy and for a moment she thinks Rachel left.

"I'll buy you lunch," she hears.

"No."

Rachel sucks her teeth. "Free dinner at Breadstix. For a month."

"Try harder."

Rachel sighed again and Santana had heard what she assumed were Rachel's feet shuffling. "I'll buy you a box of Cuban Cigars."

Santana slides the comforter down her face slightly so only her left eye is revealed. Rachel was standing near the wall with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. "My father knows some people, okay."

She stay's silent, contemplating the offer.

"I'll be ready in ten."

* * *

><p>"You know, if you had told me that it was <em>six<em> in the morning, I would have never woken up."

After stumbling out the London Hotel, train hopping, and avoiding some of the sketchiest people the two of them had ever seen combined, they were headed downtown on a nearly empty train. Santana pushes her sunglasses further up along the bridge of her nose and turns to a pensive Rachel. "This better be worth it. After the shit you and Finnocence pulled, I'm likely to go _all_ Lima Heights on you."

"Santana, you're from the West End," Rachel states flatly. Santana shifts in her seat slightly before turning her attention to an advertisement on the other end of the train. "You went to Lima Heights once to visit your cousin and you passed out before you even got there because you were scared. And don't worry," Rachel turns her head slightly, looking at Santana out the corner of her eyes with a smile toying at the corner of her mouth. "It is."

* * *

><p>"You're taking me to the <em>hood<em>? What the _fuck_, Berry?" Santana was lightly jogging to keep up with Rachel, who took off down the block once they'd gotten off the train. Santana questioned Rachel's odd demeanor, but once she stepped out of the station and onto the streets, she had realized why. In the early morning hours, Rachel had taken them into one of New York's projects. To her dismay, the projects in New York make Lima Heights Adjacent look like Neverland. "If I get shot, I swear to God I'm gonna rise from the dead and kill you!" Santana hissed out.

Rachel let out a strained giggle while she jiggled the key slot of one of the buildings. With a mocking tone, she says, "Please, that's rich coming from a girl that was about to go _"all Lima Heights"_ on me 45 minutes ago." Santana had finally caught up to her when Rachel let out an "Aha!" and the door to the building opens.

She doesn't hesitate in following Rachel inside the seedy building and into the even seedier elevator when she waves her in. They ride up in silence, though Santana could see a small grin on Rachel's lips. Once they reach the top floor, Rachel shoots out through the elevator and up the final flight of stairs.

"Berry, what are you…" Santana bounds up the stairs after Rachel and pushes through the large metal door, about to give Rachel a speech, but trails off when she saw what was in front of her. Over the horizon, a red-orange sun was about to rise over New York. They were on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the area, so they had a clear view over the East River and of Brooklyn from their height. Even the Williamsburg Bridge looked beautiful at this time of the day. The dark blue sky was kissed with a slight orange tint as the sun began its accent into the sky.

Santana's mouth had fallen agape at some point and when she turns to look at Rachel, she finds that she's standing with her back against the door, with a smile plastered on her face. "How did you…" she attempted.

"I remembered how much you like watching the sunrise," she shrugs. "I figured it would be a break from all the stuff we were dealing with because of Nationals."

Santana shook her head lightly as her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But, why here? How do you even know about this place?"

Rachel chuckles and looks at the ground briefly while walks over to Santana. "You'd be amazed at what you pick up from New Yorkers in the subway. I heard the East Side had an amazing sunrise and I wanted to see it myself. I'll admit, this isn't usually the place one goes to when they're in New York," she picks up her hand and draw an invisible line across the horizon with her index finger, "but it has an amazing view. It's not so bad over here; it deserves more credit than people give it."

Santana breathed out calmly at the undertone of Rachel's statement. Curiously, she asked, "How'd you get in? You don't have a key."

Rachel digs into her pocket and pulls out a small metallic item. "I'm pretty good with a nail file."

A smirk appeared at the corner of Santana's mouth and she rolled her eyes comically. She sat down on the gravel that covered the top of the roof and Rachel followed suit. The duo watched quietly as the sun rose in the sky, occasionally passing each other a glance sideways. After about an hour and a half, Santana's stomach began to make its presence known. As if on cue, Rachel stands and heads towards the door.

"Come on, we're on our next stop."

Santana whips her head around to stare questioningly at Rachel. "Wait, there's more?"

Rachel takes her bottom lip between her teeth before replying, "Oh yeah, there's more."

* * *

><p>"Mmmm, okay. This is the <em>best<em> cupcake I've ever had." Santana was licking her fingers clean for the third time as she and Rachel walk out of Crumbs Bakeshop. "These Grasshopper cupcakes are gold."

Rachel, who was chewing unattractively on her own cupcake, replied with a full mouth, "I know, these—mmm, so good— are delicious. I'm glad I've got some for the road." She lifts her bag filled with her own Vegan cupcakes and shakes it lightly. Rachel ranted to her for about 15 minutes on how difficult it is to find 'adequate' Vegan food in Lima.

"Rachel, that was amazing. Cupcakes and coffee for breakfast is the best idea you've ever had."

She laughed before saying, "Don't get too comfortable. We're going somewhere else." Some icing flew off of Santana's bottom lip when she turned her head sideways, raising her eyebrow to look at Rachel. "That's a good look for you," she teases, "but yes. We've got another stop."

Santana shrugs and throws Rachel an approving look. "Well, at the rate this is turning out," she takes a large bite of her cupcake, "I'll go along with anything you suggest."

* * *

><p>She knows where she is the minute she steps off the train. Still, she allows Rachel to lead her to a park a few blocks away from the Christopher Street Train Station. In the space of three blocks, Santana saw more rainbow paraphernalia than she thought existed. If Rachel was trying to drive a point home, she was doing a damned good job.<p>

Once they reached a fairly populated area, she sat down somewhat awkwardly on a bench, while Rachel sat casually. Rachel stares at the passerby's with her hands folded in her lap while Santana toys with the end of her dress, her leg unconsciously bouncing due to nervousness. After a moment, she stills her actions when Rachel places her hand on top of hers.

She looks over and Rachel is giving her a compassionate smile. It's cheeky, but in the best possible way, she thinks. Santana's returning a small, half-hearted smile when a couple holding hands walks past them. Her eyes follow the two girls, one blond and one brunette surprisingly, as they continue on their stroll through the park, seemingly unaware of the world. Rachel squeezes her hand lightly, and it brings her out of her head.

"You can have that with her, you know," she whispers out. Santana averts her eyes back to Rachel, who's staring at her with a small smile. "And although the last time I suggested this things went…badly… you could always talk to my fathers. Being an out interracial couple in Lima, Ohio makes you acquire knowledge when it comes to some things."

Santana lets out a breath that she was unaware that she was holding. With a slight sigh and a timid smile, she asks, "Where are we off to next?"

Rachel stands and extends her hand for Santana to take it. "Brooklyn."

* * *

><p>Somewhere between Williamsburg and Prospect Park, Santana begins to remember why she was friends with Rachel to begin with.<p>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

Santana looks down at Rachel who was patting some sand down into a ball. "I'm not really sure actually." She wrinkles her nose at the mess in front of her. "It was supposed be a sandcastle, but seeing as how I don't have a bucket…" she motions at the sand and looks up inquisitively at Santana's hand. "Where'd you get the book from?"

Santana sits down roughly next to Rachel and opens her book. Folding a page back, she cocks her head back towards the street and replies, "Crane machine. Borrowed a pen from the guy that operates the Cyclone."

The two of them had been at Coney Island for hours when they finally settled on the beach. It was exceptionally warm for the afternoon, and Rachel had begun to slip off her jacket.

Santana eyes Rachel's colorful coat and chuckles. "It's about time you got rid of that _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_ jacket."

Rachel arches an eyebrow. "I'm impressed by your musical knowledge Ms. Lopez."

"Well, I did hang around you for a number of years. Something was bound to rub off."

Rachel fakes a scowl, but it quickly dissolves into laughter as she tries to fix her sandcastle.

Santana looks down at the sand and on a whim, asks, "Why did you do all this, anyway?" Rachel stops her movement, giving Santana her attention. "I was ready to _kill_ you yesterday- hell, I was ready to kill you this morning- and yet you did all of this." She gestures to the discarded cupcake wrappers around them, ticket stubs from the various rides they went on at the park. "New York is your thing."

Rachel shrugs lightly and looks towards the boardwalk. "Maybe it could be our thing." Santana eyes are centered on the water when Rachel adds, "After Mr. Schuester announced that we didn't place yesterday, your face was the only one to match mine. I knew you liked Glee Club before, but in that moment, I realized you liked it as much as me. You want it as badly as I do." Santana directs her attention back to Rachel, who was rolling the sand around with her hands. "Plus, today was our last full day here. I know that our relationship has been…less than perfect in the last few years, but I wanted to spend it with you."

"I'm sorry," slips out. She didn't mean for it to, but it happens. Rachel brings the edge of her shirt to Santana's face to wipe the stray tear that also slipped out. The smile Rachel gives her seems to pierce right through her and she pulls Rachel into a hug that she hopes covey's her gratitude.

When she finally pulls back, she grabs the pen and begins to write feverishly in her notebook, occasionally crossing out words every few lines. Curiously, Rachel leans over her shoulder. "What are you writing?"

"An original song. I figure I could sing it at Sectionals. We'll be prepared this time." Santana lifts her eyes to look at Rachel. Slightly comical, but more serious, she proceeds with, "No offence, but you and Frankenteen don't have a good track record when it comes to singing duets at competitions."

Rachel rolls her eyes somewhat knowingly before turning into a hesitant smile. "Maybe we could perform a duet together."

Santana shoots Rachel a wide, toothy grin. "That'd be badass."

It immediately sends Rachel into overdrive and she grabs the book and turns to a fresh page. "Great. I have an absolutely perfect idea for a song. As for the arrangement, given that I have 8 octaves and I'm assuming that you have around 4, I would prefer it if you were to leave the more grueling vocal parts for me—"

Before she can finish her orders, Santana places her hand over the girl's mouth. "Listen Rachel, if we're gonna do this, were gonna do it as a team, okay?" She takes the book from Rachel's lap and places it on the sand beside them. "How about we _both_ write the song and come up with the arrangements." More of a question than a statement, she removes her hands from Rachel's mouth and produces another pen from behind her.

With a smile, Rachel takes the pen from Santana's hand and nods. "Good," Santana finishes.

They spend the rest of the afternoon knee deep in sand, writing an original song for Sectionals together.

* * *

><p>The title of this chapter was inspired by Two Door Cinema Club's "Costume Party"<p>

Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
